Ever felt like you were slipping away? No, being pushed away?
As if the golden threads that bound you to people in your life were now fraying, tearing under pressure?
The closer you walk, the further everyone else runs away from you.
The voices get softer, the stares get colder and before you know it, you're alone.
Alone.
Every little lightbulb, dead.
Every circuit, fused.
Every connection, severed.
Every face, a mirage.
Every memory, a ghost.
Nothing's real anymore.
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"Writing is a form of therapy; how do all those who do not write, compose, or paint manage to escape the madness, the melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in the human condition?"
- One Invictus
- Hypergraphia compels me to put down every unspoken emotion as it passes by.
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